Anyone who’s read anything about Sephardic food must surely know by now that fish and chips made their way to England via the Portuguese Jews (who, by the way, were for the most part of Spanish descent). Fish has always been an abundant staple throughout Iberia, and just as likely to be fried as not. In a place and time when it mattered, it was the Sephardim who fried their fish exclusively in olive oil, so it was indeed exotic and novel to the English, until then accustomed only to cooking with animal fats, to be introduced to this element of the Mediterranean diet – and in the sixteenth century, no less. The crisp batter was the real seducer here, of course, but for me it’s always a let-down, something they’ve amazingly not gotten the hang of in England despite four centuries of practice. With one – one! – exception, I’ve never had fried fish in England that wasn’t soggy and dripping with grease. The chips are always tepid, limp and soggy, too. Always. Even when they come straight out of the deep fryer. And ‘chip’ sounds so perky. So Hanukah’s around the corner and although fish and chips might not be your idea of festive food, believe me, when you learn how to fry properly, it’s just cause for celebration.

Okay, so Sephardic style fried fish might be batter-coated, breaded or floured. You can pan-fry or, if you’re so inclined, deep fry. Either method, and each coating, will render different degrees of crunch and allow more or less of the fish flavor to shine through. I’m not partial to breading, which I think overwhelms the flavor and texture of fish, and you’ve got my sentiments on batter – at least that batter, although it makes a great base for bumwuelos (Sephardic doughnuts, which most people would expect me to be writing about just before Hanukah). That leaves flour and egg, or just flour.

At least in theory, all Spaniards know how to fry their fish, but they’ll tell you the best fried foods are found in Andalucía, where not coincidentally the majority Jewish population lived pre-expulsion and the roots are deep, if not lovingly acknowledged. The coating of choice there is flour only – a hard wheat flour that’s great for frying, or a blend of wheat and chickpea – and it serves just to contain the fish for frying, to seal it against oil absorption without masking the flavor, which is the last thing you want to do to really fresh fish. This style coating is a la andaluza – Andalusian style. When dipped in flour and egg, it’s a la romana - Roman style – which is pretty funny because the Romans don’t use egg, either, except with breading.  And every Italian-American restaurant I ever ate in called their egg-&-flour-dipped, pan-fried proteins – veal, chicken, fish – francese. French style, that as I recall, usually included a smooth cooked lemon sauce of some kind.  Meanwhile, other than pommes frites, frying must be the last thing that springs to my mind in the context of traditional French food, and France is only an hour’s drive from where I live. Not that that makes me an expert, just nearer to the source and it sounds impressive.  Confusing and convoluted, like much of Sephardic history, with so much border-crossing (commerce, diplomacy, flight) and name-changing (convention, conversion, flight).  Except I’m not confused at all.

Peshkado frito – version 1, in flour
This is how I like fried cod.  The ideal degree of doneness here is medium-rare, neither solidly opaque (too well done) nor mostly translucent (underdone), but just at the point between these two states. It will be sweet, salty, moist, lightly crisped – no big crunch – and not greasy.  A lightly acid sauce on the side balances the equation. The traditional choices are agristada – a smooth, cooked lemon sauce (that so-called French treatment again), ajada – raw garlic spread or mayonnaise, or vinagre – tomato-vinegar sauce with or without garlic. 

Ingredients
Boneless, skinless fillets of fresh cod of uniform thickness
Sea salt
Flour for dredging – use flour that’s marked for frying, if you can find it, or hard wheat flour (bread flour). If you want to try chickpea, blend it with wheat flour.
Extra virgin olive oil – I live in Spain and olive oil is cheap.  If yours is too precious to use up on a fish fry, blend it with a sunflower oil meant for frying.
A heavy-gauge frying pan or skillet
Tongs or a spatula, or both
Paper towels

Directions
1. If your fillets are very thick, cut them into pieces abut 4 inches square.  Lightly salt the clean fillets on both sides and set aside for ten minutes.  This step draws off moisture from inside the fish, which firms it up for frying.

2. Pour oil into the pan to a depth of about 1-1/2 inches.  Heat the oil without letting it start to smoke, at which point it will be ruined and you’ll have to begin again with new oil. Don’t even bother trying to salvage it. You know by sight it’s getting too hot if it suddenly loses viscosity (it looks very thin). If that happens, immediately remove the pan from the heat source and lower the temperature. Absent a thermometer and well before you’ve heated the oil too much, you can test the temperature by tossing in a little piece of bread. If it sizzles, floats and turns brown quickly, you’re on.

3. Dredge the salted fish in flour and shake off any excess.  Slip the fillets into the hot oil one piece at a time and without crowding.  Crowding will trap moisture, lower the temperature, block the oil from circulating freely and prevent the fish from crisping. Fry in batches if you need to. As soon as you add the fish the oil should bubble up. Immediately reduce the flame to medium/medium-high. The oil needs to be kept hot enough to continue at a lively bubble and the bubbling oil should at most just barely coat the exposed top of the fish (you’re pan frying, not deep frying).

As the fish cooks it will release vapor; make sure that’s the only kind of smoke you’re seeing, but don’t let the bubbling subside. Adjust the flame slightly up or down if you need to. When the fish has developed a golden brown crust on the bottom (give this a couple of minutes), turn it over to finish cooking on the other side.  Tongs work fine, but if you’ve got a really big piece of fish and don’t want it to break, slip a spatula beneath the fish, gently press the tongs across the top, and in a single motion turn the fillet over and slip it back into the pan. Turn the fish over only once. When golden on the second side, remove to a warm plate lined with paper towels and sprinkle lightly with salt while still hot.

In part 2 you’ll get the lowdown on fried potatoes.

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